


Repetitive Tones and Elegant Backbones

by orphan_account



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Collars, Dom!Julia, F/F, Sub!Marina, non-sexual bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 06:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13828554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You are kneeling beside the bed, bare save for the black leather collar around your neck, when Julia walks through the door.-or-There’s a riding crop and there’s Marina and Julia and yeah that’s it





	Repetitive Tones and Elegant Backbones

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Paper Tigers by Envoi

You are kneeling beside the bed, bare save for the black leather collar around your neck, when Julia walks through the door. She looks at you for a moment. If she is surprised or pleased at the development, it doesn’t show. If she was anticipating this like you have been, it doesn’t show. She simply slides off her coat, hanging it from the hook on her closet door, and walks to the dresser. Her voice is quiet and firm when she finally speaks. You can feel the room shudder around you as the air changes into something thin and obedient. This is your chance to face what happened and take responsibility for it.

“Green, yellow, red?” She inquires, looking you over with a stoic, calculating expression. You nod in response. You remember the system. Green means you are all good, yellow means it’s getting a bit much, red is immediate ending of the session. Julia makes an odd sort of noise as she moves around you and you feel a slight pressure low on your back. Posture. You immediately straighten up. Slouching is against your rules. “Do we need to go over the rules again? It’s been a while.”

The last part is said with a more intense, pointed tone. Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. “No.”

“No...”

“No, Mistress.” You hear a hum of acceptance and she suggests that perhaps a once over on the rules is necessary. But, you can be good. You need this. You just haven’t done this since before... before you kicked her out of the safe house.

She crosses the room to the dresser. The air cools and you shiver. Did she change the temperature? You wouldn’t put it past her; in fact, it seems exactly in character for your Mistress. Of course she’d pull something like this so she could watch you squirm.

At the other end of the room, she pauses. For a moment you think maybe she heard your thoughts but she’s not psychic. You would know if she were. Her hand retreats from the dresser, fingers loosely curled around an object you know too well. The crop. Initially, when this whole thing with her first started, the crop looked to be the least intimidating of her toys. You didn’t underestimate your Mistress or the crop again.

The arousal and the unnerved anticipation both hit you at once as she approaches. Her movements are calculated, brutal, knowing. She is entirely aware of the power she holds over you then. The power you give her. She speaks. Even. Calm. A command.

You move to the bench at the end of the bed, hovering over it, pausing. The end of the crop brushes your shoulder and the command comes again, though this time it is followed by a question. “Have you been with anyone else since before?” She says this lazily, as if the answer, whatever it may be, has no bearing on her. As if it is a distant thing that could never be real.

“No, Mistress.” You practically hear the smirk curling devilishly on her features above you. The room noticeably drops several degrees.  
  
“And why is that, pray tell?” Your cheeks burn and your fingers cling to the smooth fabric before you. She prods you with the crop when it takes you too long to respond.

“I knew they couldn’t be like you, Mistress. They don’t know how to discipline me.”

It throws you off when she drops a number, an even thirty, and waits for a signal. Normally, you’d please her first. You stutter out a green; you want this, need this. And it begins. The first strike is biting. You thank your Mistress, and wait for the next. Over and over. The sharp thwack of leather hitting bare skin, followed by a choked sob and an obedient “thank you, Mistress.”

Your ass is red and burning by thirty. She gently brushes your sweaty and matted hair back after placing the crop to the side when you’re done. You practically fall into her lap, apologizing frantically. She soothes you, whispering about how well you did and how good you were for her and how she forgives you, how she had forgiven you long before finding you bare save for the collar around your neck.   
  
She kisses your forehead, smiling at you prettily. “You were perfect, darling. There’s no need to apologize anymore. You understand what you did wrong and you took your punishment for it. You’re alright. Breathe.”

You sit with her like this for a while, breathing and wiping the last of your tears away while she whispers calming words. Only when she is sure you are alright again does she move. “I’m going to get the cream to soothe the pain.”

She returns a minute later, cleans you up, and reaches for the clasp of your collar. “Would you like...?” You think for a moment before nodding. Sometimes this would have included sex, but that would have happened before the punishment. This was different and you are tired.  
  
She takes the collar off of you and places in the drawer of her bedside table, then curls up beside you on the bed and turns on the television, volume low.  
  
“The Little Prince?”

“Yeah.”

You fall asleep quickly and easily, for the first time in a while.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never written bdsm before so tell me what you think dudes I appreciate the feedback. :)


End file.
